


Tired and Broken Things

by romantichopelessly



Series: BOTWOT [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bad Parenting, Blood, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Crying, Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Fluff, Foster Care, Heavy Angst, Human AU, Knives, Minor Character Death, Murder, Past Abuse, References to Depression, Trauma, family au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24428569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romantichopelessly/pseuds/romantichopelessly
Summary: Patton Hart is a good kid. But even good kids have bad days.
Relationships: Platonic TDLAMPR
Series: BOTWOT [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658857
Comments: 22
Kudos: 186





	Tired and Broken Things

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: anxiety, crying, depression, minor character death (offscreen but heavily hinted at), blood, knives, murder, flashbacks, trauma. **Please take these warnings seriously and read responsibly**. Also "The Murder of Roger Ackroyd" by Agatha Christie spoilers.

** April, 2011 **

_“Patton, you're going to have to be less sensitive.”_

_Ms. Sheppard’s voice had a distinctly agitated tone to it that made Patton flinch away, his hiccuping sobs not slowing for even a second._

_Maybe if he kept his face buried in his knees Ms. Sheppard would leave him be. Maybe if he stayed here forever, wedged between the worn checkered couch and the plain beige wall, he would never have to hear those words again. He would never have to see the big frown on Ms. Sheppard’s face. He would never have to go back to the workers with the pens and clacky computers and uncomfortable car seats as they toted him to a new home--a new group of people who would say those words again, who would yell at him for crying too much, or too loudly._

_Mommy never said those words._

_Mommy always told him that his feelings were pretty._

_Mommy said they were her favorite part of him._

_Patton sobbed even harder at the thought, his nose running all over the messy sleeves of his gray sweater. He wiped his nose, sniffing grossly and pushing his too-big glasses up and off of his nose, sending them clattering to the floor._

_Above him, Ms. Sheppard sighed, and Patton shook with the wheezing sobs that wracked his body. She was going to send him back for sure now. And she was so nice too. She had been so nice before, at least. Before he started crying every day like a little baby._

_He wasn’t a little baby._

_He was eight years old, and he was a big boy._

_But big boys didn’t cry just because they missed their Mommy. Big boys didn’t cry when they scraped their knees and no one kissed the boo-boo. Big boys didn’t cry because no one read them a story before bedtime. Big boys didn’t sleep with blankies for protection. Big boys didn’t have nightmares so bad that they stood outside their new ~~mommy~~ guard-i-an’s room trying to stop crying and trying to stop wanting to wake her up._

_Big boys got adopted._

_Less sensitive boys got new families._

_Patton wasn’t sure he wanted a new family._

_Patton wanted a new family so badly it hurt his heart._

_So Patton cried harder._

\----

Patton drummed his fingers against his thigh as he pulled himself out of his daydream. He willed the rapid tapping of his foot against the carpet of Thomas’s hallway to stop, grabbing his tapping fingers with his other hand for good measure.

It was silly really. Patton didn’t know why, today of all days, he was so caught up in his memories. Not even the good ones, either, the ones tinged with just a hint of bittersweet nostalgia, but the ones that added tiny fishing weights to the bottom of his heart, pulling down his entire mood and filling his head with fog.

He shook it for good measure, his strawberry blonde curls flopping over the edges of his large round glasses and tickling his forehead in a way that almost made him laugh.

Almost.

He had only been living with Thomas for just over a week now, he really needed to get a better grip on himself.

Think of the others. The five other, younger boys that were also here and didn’t need him begging for attention just because he was having an itsy bitsy off day.

Determined to ignore the shadows looming over his head, Patton stepped out of the hallway where he had been lingering since the end of breakfast and into the living room. He could hear Thomas before he even turned his head to look for him, just a few feet away, rattling around in the kitchen.

After a moment of hesitation-- _do you really want to risk bothering him?_ \--Patton headed in the direction of the sounds.

It had only been nine days since Patton and the others had first moved in, but he had already surmised in that much time that Thomas Sanders was very much not a whiz in the kitchen, and Patton had made a vow to himself by day two to help out in that capacity as much as he possibly could.

For Thomas’s sake and the kids’.

“Mr. Thomas?” Patton asked softly, hovering in the doorway between Thomas’s living room and kitchen. 

“Just Thomas!” Thomas called, before he even looked up from what was, frankly, a colossal mess that he was making on the kitchen bar. He turned to look over his shoulder and smiled when his eyes met Patton’s.

It almost made Patton’s heart feel a little bit lighter.

“Heya, Patton! What’s up?” Thomas turned around fully, still holding the messy knife that he was cutting tomatoes with. A spike of fear pierced Patton’s heart at the sight, but he quickly squashed that feeling down. He had been given no reason at all to feel fear around Thomas.

“Just checking in.” Patton replied, thankfully well versed in the art of keeping his voice light and his smile steady. “I was wondering if you’d like some help with lunch?”

Thomas looked at him for a second, his eyes holding some emotion that Patton couldn’t quite read. “Sure! Do you want to grab the bread for me, from the cabinet?”

Patton nodded listlessly, still feeling a little bit fuzzy in the brain from his earlier musings. He wondered if Thomas ever got like this. Probably not. He didn’t seem like the type to have a history of trauma. Though you could never tell, really, could you? Patton certainly didn’t look the part of a traumatized child. At least, he hoped that he didn’t, otherwise what was the point of all of this pretending? But Thomas was such a nice man, surely he didn’t spend his time half in and half out of his own mind. Thomas had a good life.

_It could be yours too._

Patton stuffed that thought to the back of his mind, burying it with all his other thoughts from the day. That wasn’t going to happen. He was ten months from aging out of the system, and out of adoption. 

Patton shook his head to clear his thoughts for what already felt like the tenth time today, and found himself still staring into the pantry, clutching the loaf of bread just a bit too tightly between his fingers.

He quickly loosened his grip on the bread and turned over his shoulder to look at Thomas. Thankfully, his new guardian was not paying attention, focusing solely on the tomatoes that he was still struggling to slice. Patton held in a sigh of relief. 

Patton slipped his smile back into place and turned to his guardian, depositing the loaf of bread on the bar beside him. “What are you making?”

Thomas glanced towards him out of the corner of his eyes, a friendly, genuine smile on his face. Effortlessly. Patton felt a pang of jealousy. Followed, of course, by a wave of guilt. “BLTs! Or grilled cheese.” The 30 year old paused his work, looking down at his hands for a moment. “I forgot to ask what everyone wanted again.”

Patton’s guilt blossomed like the flower of a sickly weed in the pit of his stomach. Thomas really was trying so hard, wasn’t he? He was reaching out to them all the time, and none of them were really reaching back, were they?

_You should take that first step. But you won’t, will you? Stop being such a coward._

Patton winced, biting the inside of his cheek harshly. “I can go do that!”

For a second, Thomas looked relieved and that weed in the pit of Patton’s stomach quivered, threatening to wilt away as Patton so badly wanted, but Thomas quickly shook his head and put down the finished sliced tomatoes and knife. “No. Thank you, Patton, but I can take care of it! I don’t think I’ve seen much of Dee or Virgil today anyway, so it will be for the best.” Thomas began to walk away but stopped himself, wavering in the doorway. He looked conflicted over something. Patton didn’t know what to make of it. None of his guardians had ever been so hesitant about telling him what to do. “If you want to, though, you can grab some plates and things. I’ll clean up the mess once I’m back.”

He was referring to the tomatoes. As Thomas left the room, Patton regarded the vegetables--fruit?--and the red stained knife resting beside them.

A chill ran up Patton’s spine and he quickly turned away, focusing his gaze once again on the slightly squished bread. He almost wished he still had it in his hands, almost wished for the satisfying feeling of harmless destruction.

He pressed the feelings down.

He grabbed some plates.

\----

** August, 2009 **

_“-ount with me, Patton. Come on, kiddo.”_

_Patton was vaguely aware of the voice from above listing off numbers--counting--very slowly. He distantly wondered why they were doing that. Why were they counting for him like he was a baby? Who was this? Where was he? What was he doing outside? Daddy had said-_

_**Knife. Sirens. Banging. Loud voices. Daddy was being taken. Where were they taking him? Where was his froggy? Where was- Why was-** _

_“-ive... One... Two... Three… Four-”_

_Patton’s breathing slowed. The person--A fireman? A doctor? He couldn’t tell anymore--in front of him said something in a soft voice. Patton was pretty sure that it was some form of praise. He did good._

_His fists clenched, gripping the blankie in his lap. He blinked his bleary eyes. Was he crying?_

_Daddy wouldn’t like it if he was crying still._

_Where was his froggy?_

\----

Patton ran his thumb over the ratty plush fur of his stuffed frog. The fuzz was matted with age, the once vibrant pastel green worn to a washed out pale color. _Well loved_ , his mother would have called it.

Honestly, it was a surprise that the stuffed animal had even lasted the eleven years that Patton had been hopping through the system.

Patton chuckled weakly at his own mental pun.

Kitty the Frog was actually the only keepsake that Patton had kept for that long. Clothes, of course, were grown out of. Pictures were so easily lost and ripped apart when one was a weepy, angry at the world, preteen who couldn’t understand that hatred was not infinite, and that soon he would only be left with the pictures used on the local news to remember his mother by.

Patton sighed softly glancing over his shoulder to the open doorway.

Virgil was nowhere to be found.

Patton leaned over and gently placed Kitty back into his bag, adjusting her so that she was sitting primly upright among his wads of clothing. He carefully pushed the bag back under his bed, where it would be hidden, but not hidden enough to be suspicious or worth looking through.

It wasn’t that Patton didn’t trust Thomas or the kids. Or, well, it wasn’t like he didn’t want to trust them. It was just common practice to guard one’s possessions in the system. Kitty was too precious to leave unguarded. Especially when there were two rambunctious little seven year olds in the house.

Patton leaned back up and turned towards the door.

Just in time to see a pair of curious eyes widen, and a figure to quickly dart off in the opposite direction. 

It may have only been a few days, literally speaking, but Patton already knew those eyes. They were the only other ones always behind glasses like his own.

Patton swallowed down the instant panic that filled his throat at being watched, smoothed his hands over his shirt, and with only one glance back to make sure that his bag was completely under the bed, set out to follow Logan.

Twelve year olds were notoriously fast, but Thomas’s house didn’t exactly have a lot of places to hide. Not that Patton was chasing the kiddo, of course. 

Patton found Logan not even five minutes later, sitting on the couch in Thomas’s common room, holding a book open in his lap. The kid was obviously trying to look busy, but he was failing pretty miserably at it. 

“Logan?”

The twelve year old tensed ten ways to Sunday and Patton winced. Yikes. Poor kiddo.

Patton took a deep breath and tried to think of a better way to do this. What sort of approach would he have tolerated when he was that young?

Patton stepped forwards, into Logan’s line of vision and waved. “What are you reading, kiddo?”

“You do comprehend that you are also a child, correct?” Logan’s voice was monotone, but the way that his fingers clenched white against the cover of the book that he was gripping told another story.

“Sure am!” Patton replied, trying not to let the barb stick with him. “Whatcha reading?” He asked again, gesturing to the book that Logan was very obviously not reading.

Logan looked up, and Patton could clearly see the question in his eyes. He was wondering why Patton wasn’t interrogating him about watching him. Instead of voicing this worry, however, Logan simply lifted the book so that Patton could read the cover.

“ _The Murder of Roger Ackroyd_.” Patton read aloud and blinked. “Isn’t that a little dark for you, kiddo?” He asked, before he could even think about it.

Logan dropped the book back into his lap and visibly curled into himself. Patton mentally cursed himself for being so uselessly judgemental.

“Sorry!” Patton hurried to say, cursing himself again for the apology. Kids Logan’s age in the system didn’t care much for empty, meaningless apologies. Patton took a deep breath, in through his nose so that it wouldn’t be visible to Logan just how frazzled he was. He sat on the far end of the couch. “That’s a classic, right? You must be very smart to be reading that.”

“This is actually the third time that I am reading it.” Logan’s voice was soft. He didn’t elaborate.

“But isn’t it a mystery? Doesn’t it get boring once you know who the killer is?”

Something in Logan’s eyes sparked and Patton’s posture relaxed a little bit. “Actually, it is quite the opposite, you see, in this particular novel, the killer was actually the unreliable narrator himself. So once you know that, going back and reading again is actually better, if only to see the hints that Christie left to the final reveal.”

Patton nodded along, acting as if he had any sort of clue what Logan was saying. However, he was sure that Logan would be able to tell if he was just humoring him, and he didn’t want the kiddo to clam up another time, so he leaned forward in interest. “And there are a lot of hints? Did you guess who the killer was the first time?”

Logan closed the book, smoothing his fingers over the cover as it lay in his lap. “Actually yes!” The twelve year old glowed with pride.

Patton felt his heart warm and a genuine smile tug on the corners of his lips for the first time since he had woken up that morning. 

And that, it seemed, was all it took to get Logan Croft to open up, because for the next few minutes the kid was off like a firecracker, talking excitedly about the novel in his hands and his first experience with it, and the author, and everything and anything in between. Of course, the bright light that was Logan Croft dimmed after only a few minutes, when he realized that he was the only one talking, but Patton didn’t quite mind, not since he got to see the kiddo open up, even if just for a bit.

There was a moment of silence after Logan slowed to a stop. Patton didn’t want to push, so he said nothing.

“Why aren’t you mad at me?”

“For what, kiddo?”

Logan looked at him, a perplexed expression on his face. “For watching you earlier. I didn’t mean to- really, I didn’t- but you were so still, and I was… curious.”

_Curiosity killed the cat_ , a dark, vindictive and angry part of Patton wanted to say. The deep, oft shoved down side of him that wanted nothing more than to keep Kitty, his mom, his sadness, his past secret and hidden away in his bag, far from prying eyes, forever.

Patton didn’t say that.

“Because there’s no reason to be mad about that. You are allowed to be curious. It wasn’t like I was doing anything secret. The door was open.”

Except he was. He couldn’t be caught in his own lies. The lies about his feelings and so, so much more. He couldn’t be weak, not now, only ten months from aging out of the system. Not only fourteen months from finishing high school. He couldn’t lose everything before he had to.

Logan looked skeptical.

He had a right to be, Patton reminded himself. It wasn’t like he was being particularly honest. The thought tasted sour on Patton’s tongue. His mother had hated lying. Still, Patton smiled kindly.

“Are you sure…?” Logan’s voice was low. Vulnerable.

Patton’s heart ached for this young boy. 

“Of course, Logan. And hey! I had fun talking with you, so there’s no way I could be mad at you after that.” Something softened behind Logan’s eyes and Patton’s heart mended itself just a little bit. A stitching together in the form of gaining a little bit of a parentless preteen’s trust that was likely to be ripped apart later when said preteen inevitably got adopted, and Patton kept the pain invisible as he celebrated for another yet again. “You’re a smart kid, Logan. One of the most interesting people that I’ve ever had the pleasure of speaking to! And that is pretty mir- _ackroyd_ -lous!”

Logan snorted. A soft, beautifly happy sort of sound that he muffled behind the hand that he brought up to his lips, but Patton smiled anyways.

Baby steps.

\----

** July, 2009 **

_Patton woke up to a loud scary noise downstairs._

_He sat up in his bed, rubbing his sleepy eyes with a balled up fist as he reached across the tangled up bedsheets for Kitty._

_Hugging the froggy close, Patton scooted off his bright blue bed sheets and hit the floor with a little thump. He padded across his bedroom to his door._

_Outside of the door, he could still hear the weird noises. It sounded like the time that Daddy called the plumber over to fix the sink, and he had to move around a bunch of the furniture to look at the pipes all up in the walls._

_Patton pushed open his door, holding Kitty to his chest for protection. “Mommy?”_

_Downstairs, someone said a bunch of bad words in a very angry voice._

_Daddy._

_Patton whimpered softly. Something very not good squirmed in his chest. At six years old, he had never felt so wrong in his own house. It was like the time that he had to leave the school because the fire alarms went off. It was like the time that Mommy had told him to go over to Brian’s house when Daddy came home smelling bad._

_Something felt wrong._

_Patton’s heart was beating very fast, and suddenly he wanted to run across the hall to Mommy and Daddy’s room and climb up in bed to sleep with them._

_So he did just that._

_Daddy was downstairs, so he couldn’t say anything about Patton needing a hug, and Mommy would always let him snuggle under the covers with Kitty._

_Patton twisted the doorknob to Mommy and Daddy’s room, but it didn’t budge. It was locked tight. Patton felt the bad feeling from before returning at full force. Mommy and Daddy never locked their door. Even on Daddy’s grumpy nights, they always left the door open for Patton._

_All the bad feelings scared Patton even more, and he clutched onto Kitty with all his might. He found himself standing at the top of the stairs before he knew it, holding onto the rail for dear life._

_“Mommy?” He tried again, his voice echoing in the empty stairwell. Downstairs, the loud noises stopped._

_There was quiet for a moment, and Patton felt tears well up in his eyes. Why was everything so wrong this morning?_

_Finally, a voice called back up to him._

_“Patton?”_

_Patton had never felt so glad to hear his father’s voice. He quickly ran down the stairs, stumbling over a few, but holding tight to Kitty and the handrail. By the time that he got to the bottom of the stairs, Daddy was there and Patton couldn’t hold himself back from latching onto his father’s legs in a tight hug._

_And, for a second, everything felt okay._

_But that’s when Patton could smell it. Daddy smelt bad. Badder than when he went out with his friends. A different kind of bad. The kind that reminded Patton of old pennies that he found on the sidewalk outside of the Pizza Hut._

_Patton pulled away before Daddy could push him away, confused. Daddy was looking at him with a weird look on his face. His gray pajama shirt was covered in something messy and dark reddish brown. Patton’s nose wrinkled. The yucky feelings returned._

_“Daddy, where’s Mommy?”_

_The weird look darkened, and Patton’s fingers tightened on the plush green of Kitty’s soft fur._

_“Don’t ask about her anymore, Patty.”_

_The nickname almost made Patton feel good. Almost. Mostly he was just confused and worried. Why wouldn’t Daddy want to talk about Mommy?_

_“But-”_

_“No more, Patton.” Daddy’s voice had gone hard again, and he crouched down to Patton’s level. Patton shrunk back. Something was very very bad. Daddy’s hand was on his shoulder and his grip was **tight**. Patton whimpered again. “You don’t ever talk about her again, okay? She’s gone. She **left us**.”_

_Patton shook his head. And shook his head again. And again. “No, Mommy-”_

_Mommy had just sung him a lullaby last night. She was just there. She wouldn’t have left. She couldn’t have._

_“NO, PATTON!” Patton tried to pull back, but Daddy was holding him by his arms now and it **hurt**. Tears fell down his cheeks. “No more, do you hear me? Now go get your things, we’ve got to go.”_

_“But-”_

_But they were going to the park today. Mommy was supposed to make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and cut the crusts off and she was supposed to remind him to buckle his shoes and zip up his bag, and he was supposed to point out the ducks as they walked past the lake, and he was supposed to pet all the doggies today, and-_

_“No buts. We have to go. **Now**. Go and get your things, or we’re leaving without them, do you understand me?” A tiny sob escaped Patton’s throat. “ **Do you understand me?** ” Daddy shook him and Patton nodded, a hiccuping sob passing his lips again. “Good. Now go.”_

_He released Patton, and Patton turned and ran upstairs._

\----

Patton sat, curled up in the corner of Thomas’s couch, watching the bottom of the staircase.

Thomas had gone upstairs nearing half an hour ago, trying to put the twins to bed. Since, Patton, and Virgil who was sitting on the other end of the couch, had heard varying noises coming from the room at the top of the stairs. It sounded like the two seven year olds did not plan on settling down any time soon.

Part of Patton wanted to stay curled up right here on the couch--perhaps talk to Virgil, or even just sit there and do absolutely nothing--and just end the day quietly.

But of course, Patton couldn’t let himself do that. Thomas was obviously struggling with the little kiddos and it would be selfish to just sit around while he needed help.

Biting back the negative emotions that he had been swallowing all day long, Patton pushed himself to his feet. Virgil looked up at the movement, but looked away again as soon as Patton made eye contact. Patton refused to let the disappointment show on his face.

Although Virgil was no longer looking, Patton decided to answer his unspoken question anyway. “I’m going to go see if I can help Thomas put the kiddos down.”

Patton let a moment pass to allow Virgil the opportunity to respond. He didn’t, so Patton quickly headed up the stairs and down the hallway to the twins’ bedroom.

“Remus, _please_ put the underwear back down,” Thomas said, an edge of desperation to his voice.

Patton picked up his pace.

Once he reached the doorway, Patton knocked on the wood of the doorframe and peaked his face in to take in the scene before him.

Remus was indeed throwing clothing in the air as his brother sat on the end of one of the beds, bouncing excitedly. Patton could see even from far away that Roman’s eyes were darkened with exhaustion, but the seven year old was wiggling around despite his tiredness, probably to stave it off, in fact.

“I don’t wanna go to bed!” Roman declared.

“Me neither!” Remus echoed, flopping down face first onto the carpeted floor and spreading his arms and legs out like a starfish.

Patton turned to see Thomas sitting in a chair in between the twins’ beds, on the far side of the room, looking extremely out of his element. Patton winced in sympathy, smiling apologetically as Thomas looked up to meet his eye. Thomas’s expression brightened a bit and Patton felt a little more comfortable stepping fully into the room.

“Patton! What’s up, buddy?” Though the nickname was awkward, and chaos surrounded him, Thomas kept a smile on his face.

“I was just wondering if you needed any help?” Patton offered.

Remus had begun to chant, his face still planted into the floor. “No sleep! No sleep! No sleep!”

“No sleep.” Roman agreed, with a yawn.

Thomas looked conflicted.

Patton knew that his new guardian didn’t want to take advantage of him--or whatever it was that Thomas truly thought. It was novel, really. In his eleven years of being in the foster system, Patton had never encountered a foster parent so reluctant to take help offered by a willing foster child. It was sweet.

Roman fell forward off the bed and landed on top of his brother who cried out indignantly.

Thomas turned back to Patton and nodded. “Please?”

Patton nodded in return and turned to the two twins sprawled across the ground. Remus was grumbling loudly and trying, unsuccessfully, to push his bigger brother off of him.

“Romannnnnnn!” Remus whined.

Roman propped his chin up on his hands and grinned across the room at Patton. “Hi, Patton!”

Patton smiled softly. “Hi, Roman. Hello, Remus.” He added, for good measure. “Not sleepy tonight, huh?”

Thomas smiled ruefully. “We’ve decided that sleep is for the weak, apparently.”

“Yeah!” Remus agreed, breathless under the weight of his twin but not fighting it anymore. 

In the past eleven years, Patton had learned a lot of different ways to put a kid down to sleep. He had tried them all. Wearing a kid out by playing with them, asking a kiddo to focus on coloring a picture, reading them a story, and too many other methods to count. However, tonight, a thought of a new method was niggling at the back of Patton’s mind that he had never actually tried before, but he couldn’t quite shake it off.

“What if I sang you something?” Patton asked, before he could truly think it through.

Roman perked up, rolling off of his brother and sitting up. “Really? You sing?”

Remus, finally free from his fraternal prison, rolled over onto his back and looked up at Patton from the ground. “You don’t look like a singer.”

Roman hit his brother on the back of his head. “Anybody can be a singer!”

“Anybody but you, poopyhead.”

Roman gasped. “I am not a poopyhead! You are, Stinky!”

Thomas stepped in. “No more name calling. And definitely no hitting, Roman. Neither of you answered Patton’s question.”

Patton was still a bit in shock. Why had he even offered to sing for them? He hadn’t sung for anyone in… well, he couldn’t remember how long ago it was. Technically he knew _why_ the thought of a lullaby had been in his head to begin with, but why he actually offered…

“Yes, please!” Roman’s voice pulled Patton out of his own mind.

Remus, seeming to realize that his brother was no longer on his side, frowned slightly. Patton would have felt bad had he not seen the exhaustion from earlier reflected in the second twin’s eyes. “Alright. But I won’t sleep!”

Thomas ushered the twins into their respective beds, and Patton found himself moving forward, as if on autopilot and sitting in the armchair in between the heads of the beds. Quickly, however a small hand was on his arm. Patton looked up, startled, to see that Remus had hopped out of his own bed and was now climbing into Roman’s, waving Patton over after him.

A bit miffed and more than a bit touched, Patton sat on the end of the bed while the two seven year olds settled in. He was distantly aware of Thomas behind him, hovering beside the armchair.

Once the boys had laid down their heads, Patton cleared his throat, suddenly very nervous.

Remus smiled up at him, a wide grin that probably should have put Patton off more than it set him at ease.

“I can…” Patton’s words stuck in his throat. He swallowed. “This is a song that my mom used to sing to me. When I couldn’t sleep.”

Roman and Remus’s eyes lit up at the information, and both of them nestled down as Patton cleared his throat and began to sing.

_“Go after your dreams  
Crazy as they may seem  
Go chase all the stars in the sky…”_

Already, the twins’ eyelids were drooping. The exhaustion from the day catching up to them.

Patton smoothed the blankets under his hands, his eyes closed as he focused on the tactile experience, trying very hard not to ruminate on the feelings welling up in his heart.

_“Baby, I’ll be paving the runway  
Cause I know that one day you’re gonna fly”_

It had been a while since he had heard this song aloud, but he could still so easily remember every word, every note.

_“Darling… Stand on my shoulders  
Up where it’s carefree, simple and good.  
Baby, soon you’ll be older  
You will reach higher than I ever could”_

Patton couldn’t see it, but Remus’s eyes were now fully closed, his chest rising and falling with an easy rhythm, and Roman was following close behind, his chocolate brown eyes watching Patton with that could only be described as breathtaking wonder.

Just as Patton had looked at this point in the song, when he was six years old and oh so innocent.

_“If ever your wings, are tired and broken things  
Can’t see through the tears in your eyes  
Baby, I’ll be paving the runway  
Cause I know that one day you’re gonna fly”_

Behind his eyes, Patton could feel the sting of tears. The monumental weight of the day was catching up to him, and he couldn’t help but imagine the scene. His own mother sitting in his place, singing the words with him as he drifted off to sleep, calm and content.

_“Go after your dreams_  
As crazy as they may seem  
Go chase all the stars in the sky” 

Patton’s voice caught on the words. A thick sadness that had been slowly building in his lungs all day finally catching up with him.

He tried desperately to push it back.

It wouldn’t listen.

_“Baby, I’ll be paving the runway”_

Patton could feel the tear tracking its way down his face, but he refused to acknowledge it or wipe it away.

He opened his eyes, looking down to see the twins cuddled together, fast asleep.

_“Cause I know that one day you’re gonna fly”_

Patton choked on the last note, his breath hitching in his throat. He couldn’t even get out the final line of the lullaby. Before he knew what was happening, a gentle hand was on his quivering back. Patton allowed himself to be led out of the room and into the hallway, tears still clouding his vision and racing down his reddened cheeks as he came back to reality to see Thomas standing before him, a concerned look on his face.

“Patton?” Thomas’s voice was gentle. Soft. “Are you alright?”

Patton blinked a few times in quick succession, trying to clear his tears. It didn’t work. “I-”

Thomas cut him off, somehow in a way that wasn’t at all harsh. “And please don’t say that you’re fine. I know that you aren’t. I just want to give you the opportunity to talk about it.”

Maybe it was the fact that Patton hadn’t been spoken to like that by someone who wasn’t paid to in such a long time. Maybe it was the compassion in Thomas’s voice when he said it. Maybe it was just the vast ocean of emotions that had been drowning Patton all day. Whatever it was, Patton broke.

Patton had always been an ugly crier. He had been told so for as long as he could remember.

So when he broke out into tears he certainly didn’t expect Thomas to immediately pull him and all of his disgusting snot and tears into a tight, but somehow not restrictive in the slightest, hug.

And when he clutched onto the back of Thomas’s shirt like he used to hold onto his mom when he was five years old and full of joy and easy trust, he surely didn’t expect for Thomas to rub calming circles onto his back in return.

And when he hiccuped out apology after apology he didn’t at all expect Thomas’s response.

“It’s okay, Patton. It’s okay to have any feelings that you’re having. You’re alright here.”

It only made him sob harder.

It also filled him with a sense of relief that he hadn’t felt in years.

After many minutes standing like that--letting himself be held, goodness, when was the last time that Patton was held by anyone?--Patton pulled away with a sniffle. “I’m sorry.” It was the only thing he could even think of to say. It was the only thing he knew how to express anymore. 

Thomas shook his head, something sad in his eyes. “It’s fine, Patton. It’s fine… to not be fine.”

The lump in Patton’s throat that hadn’t even yet fully disappeared reformed at those words, and he felt the overwhelming urge to start bawling again. “No, it’s not.” He smiled regretfully instead. “It’s- I know that I’m never going to be adopted.” Patton didn’t know why, exactly he was saying this. Why was he saying this? Thomas didn’t need his baggage. He couldn’t make himself stop, though. “I’m seventeen. I should- I _have_ to be strong for these kiddos. They have so many more messy days ahead of them, but they still have hope, and I need to add to that in any way I can.”

The shadow in Thomas’s eyes, the sad one that looked never endingly melancholy, despite all of the times that Patton had seen Thomas glowing with positivity and raw love in just the past nine days alone, darkened a bit. “That isn’t true, Patton. There is no reason that they should be put before you.”

“But there _is_.” Patton insisted. There was something desperate in his voice. Even he could hear it. A raw need to be _heard_. To have the beliefs that he had been holding so close to his heart validated. Reaffirmed. Because if he was wrong, what would that mean? “I know that you took us all in with intent to adopt, but I’m just not adoptable material. They are. I need to be- I need to just be less-” He brought a hand up to wipe away the tears that were still falling, feeling completely and utterly childish. 

There was something conflicted in Thomas’s expression now, and Patton didn’t quite know what to make of it. 

There was a pause. As Patton collected himself and Thomas seemed to deliberate over something.

“Patton.” He started, his voice unbearably soft. “I want you to know that if you want it, I fully intend to adopt you. Regardless of age, regardless of what sort of front that you put up. Your emotions, history and all. Because I like you. You’re a good person. A good _kid_ , Patton. You can let yourself be a kid. I want to be there for you when you are.”

Patton looked up at his guardian with wide eyes, a balloon of hope rising in his chest.

“I’d like that.”

_“Cause I know that one day you’re gonna fly.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I know that this ending is not the most realistic. But sometimes you have to sacrifice realism for the sake of the story and that's okay.


End file.
